After lots of years of trying, Dad and his allotments gang have finally obtained grants to fence in the public foot path. The work will be done by proper contractors, but the ground works and clearing up of old fencing will be done by Dad and his merry men. When we say "old fencing", this is, of course an allotment site where the spirit of recycling and "make-do-and-mend" is ingrained in the culture. Old fencing is pallets, bed frames, brambles, sheets of corrugated iron and so on.
So it is that we have been up there today with loppers, pruning saws and forks but also wire cutters and crow-bars.
With Mum away with Diamond in Glasgow, Dad's been seeing to it that we don't feel hard done by, so a treat today of raw pork ribs saw us OK, and Dad has been coming out in solidarity with Glasgow, with a supper of haggis, neeps and tatties. At one point a glass of Glenmorangie was calling loudly to him, but he's pleased to say he resisted, and stuck to traditional Scots Rioja (!)
Now, as you can see, we are all watching West Wing. Glued to it we are. That's "H" on the leather sofa, me up on the back of the sofa against the wall, and Meggie on the dark blue arm chair. You can tell it's a gripping political drama, and just up a westie's alley.